Chapter Thirty-Eight
The attack comes within a week, much sooner than we expected.
But Anahima isn’t one to dawdle—she’s a planner and she’s methodical—she would not have moved unless all her playing pieces were in place. I feel a twinge in my gut at the thought of my friend’s betrayal, though I can’t even imagine what Darrius is feeling.
This is his sister, his right hand, the one he trusted most in the world.
My heart breaks for him. For both of them.
The king of Everlea left at the crack of dawn to meet with his war council and ready the Aspa?anā.
Roshan departed for Oryndhr a handful of days ago so that he could gather his army, and while the thought of him being so far away from me forms a huge knot in my chest—mostly because I can’t feel him like I do Darrius via our soul bond—I know he’ll be careful.
Still, it feels like my heart is walking around unprotected outside of my body and I hate it.
“Don’t you dare do anything stupid like die,” I’d warned Roshan as I peppered him with kisses before he entered the portal to Kaldari. “If you do, I will be forced to reanimate you with sanguimancy magic and then murder you slowly.”
He had smiled, tucking my hair behind my ear. “So vicious.”
“I mean it. I didn’t get you back only to lose you.”
“You won’t lose me, my starling. I promise.”
Darrius had stood behind me, his strength the only thing keeping me upright as one half of my heart left for another realm. “He has the power of Saru, Starbright,” he had whispered. “I suspect he might be immortal. In fact, I’m certain of it. The manticore saw a divine light around his aura.”
That insight had given me a small measure of peace, but until Roshan is back here with me, I remain anxious.
The plan is to bring his army to Everlea via a portal in Solis.
With Rakh guarding the sea-facing borders and Shabra, Karkad, and Chamros defending the west, as well as Darrius’s army covering the north, Roshan will be well placed for any attacks from the east. We will have a defense on all fronts, or at least that is the idea.
I’m sure that Anahima has a contingency plan in place, and my stomach is roiling with dread.
I pop into my old bedroom to check on my father.
He’s asleep, but he has been able to stay awake now for hours at a time.
Nuadar is the reason my father is still alive.
After Maxur’s prompt interrogation, the beastmaster had made no effort to conceal his mind from his king’s psionic magic, proving his loyalty.
I’m not too proud to admit that I might have judged him unfairly.
In truth, without his help, the deadly serum would have kept eating away at my father until he was too weak to live.
But now, his sleep cycle will return to normal and the lethargy from the toxin will leave his muscles.
Papa will have to undergo some special healing for any atrophying of his body, but according to Nuadar, he’s going to be just fine.
“Did you know Anahima was a sovran-level magi?” I ask Ziba as she helps me into my leathers and armor in Darrius’s quarters.
Ziba lets out a telling sigh. “As a child that girl had a jealous streak a mile long, but she hid it well. Everyone in the castle knew the princess had power, but when she tested, she was mestial or dominant at best.”
“She told me the same,” I say, wincing as she draws the buckles as tight as possible.
“It was part of her outer mask,” Ziba says.
“Downplay her strengths, pretend to be a healer while secretly studying how to use advanced corpus magic in poisons and toxins, not to mention her dabbling in death and blood magic. If anyone caught her, she manipulated their memories with them none the wiser.”
I let out an exhale. “She could do that?”
Ziba nods. “A sovran-level psionic magi can do that and more. Some as powerful as Princess Anahima and the king can create whole illusions that aren’t real, that exist only in the minds of those affected. For a long time, I thought only King Darrius possessed that power.”
“Gods,” I whisper, alarm rising at the thought of Anahima controlling me or anyone I love. I recall some of the images with Zahre and Darrius I’d envisioned at the Mithral feast that had never felt like mine. Instinctively, I strengthen my mental shield. “Are you afraid?”
Her face is grim, but she smiles. “Not with our king. And not with the Starkeeper by his side.”
That’s a lot of faith to have to carry, not just for one realm but two. I hug Ziba tightly, emotion clogging my throat, wondering if it will be the last time I see her. “You’ll be safe, won’t you?”
She bows reverently, tears misting her eyes. “Of course, my queen. As will you.”
It’s not the first time I have been called a queen, but it is the first time that I feel it, a destiny written into the marrow of my bones.
I stand with not one but two powerful kings at my sides: Darrius’s magic humming down the bond to empower me and Roshan’s devoted heart grounding and tethering me.
I am the conduit between the earth and sky.
My simurgh flexes her wings, ready for what is coming and ready to defend both of the kingdoms under her watch.
Darrius, are you well? I’m going to Solis now.
His reply is immediate, apprehension and affection tumbling down the bond. Yes, pátnī. Please be vigilant. I love you.
Always am. I love you, too.
Chest squeezing, I make my way downstairs to the courtyard, where a small contingent of Darrius’s kingsguard is waiting, led by Maxur.
His face is hard, and I feel a pulse of pity.
He’d also been blindsided by Anahima’s betrayal, a revelation that must hurt, considering their on-again, off-again intimacy.
She’d used him, too, to keep track of the king’s movements and any decisions made in the war council.
Darrius had trusted her, but she preferred to have all her bets covered. The general gives me a grim nod.
This is personal for him. It’s personal for all of us.
With a deep breath, I pull on my magic to conjure the portal to Solis.
Something tickles the back of my mind and my eyes catch the slightest shimmer of something before the smell of ozone hits my nose and the iridescent oval of my portal forms. Darrius had taken me to Solis via his own portal a few days ago so I could see exactly where I needed to be.
Maxur directs five of his men to go first. I follow, knowing he will bring up the rear with the rest.
As I step through, the portal shimmers an odd color, and I feel it the second the magic envelops me—it’s not mine.
But there’s nothing I can do—I’m already through.
Heart pounding, I emerge in a cobblestone courtyard with a looming black castle behind me and not the open air of Solis. The awful sight of five dead bodies greets me . . . the ones of my guard who had stepped through before me. I grasp for the bond.
Darrius, the portal failed. I peer up. I’m in a black-stoned fortress with spires.
Morien? Fuck. Get out of there. You’re—
His voice cuts off as a blast of magic douses our connection. I whirl around, but before I can reverse my steps, the portal is gone. My own power lashes over my arms in a defensive position in the empty courtyard as a sole pair of footsteps breaks the silence.
“Hello, my friend,” Anahima says, and I blink in shock.
She looks ghoulish. Her black hair is lank and greasy, her face haggard and gaunt.
She was always thin, but her bones are in stark relief, her blue eyes burning like festering violet flames.
Has Fero done this to her? The answer is obvious when my magic brushes against a twisted, malevolent energy.
It’s Anahima . . . but not.
“What did you do?” I whisper in horror.
Her head cocks. “What’s meant to be.”
I shudder and try to stay calm at the utter acceptance in her voice. “Whatever that thing is, it’s not your father.” In some of the ancient texts I’d read, Fero had been described as a ruthless but impartial god, one who was the necessary balance to Saru. “That remnant is corrupt.”
“I know,” Anahima says calmly. “Did you know that in our prophecies, the lightbreaker dies so true darkness can rise? They also say that the godslayer will bring about the birth of a new god.”
I frown. Is she talking about the same Everlean prophecy Darrius had told me? Is she the purported godslayer, if she means to kill her father? Then who is the lightbreaker?
Anahima lets out a condescending sniff as if she can read my chaotic thoughts. “Ashes below, you were always so slow, Sura.”
“My name is Suraya.”
She ignores me. “Allow me to break it down into child-sized pieces for you. In the old days, they called Darrius the lightbreaker because of his power over the shadows.” She sneers. “As firstborn, that power should have been mine. And you will help me take it back.”
My fists curl and tighten. “I could end you right now and stop this madness.” I gather my magic, though I know it won’t be easy. Anahima is not to be misjudged, and if she tinkered with the portal to bring me here, it’s because she wants me here.
A dangerous dark violet haze clouds her irises. “Very well. But I have your precious king. Your move, Sura.”
“You don’t,” I say confidently, sensing no strain on the bond.
“Not that king, silly girl. The Oryndhrian.” Her smile is a rictus, filling me with dread.
No, she’s bluffing. Roshan is in Kaldari, waiting for me to bring him to Solis. “You’re lying.”
“Am I? I know everything that goes on in my castle. I didn’t think you had it in you, my sweet, depraved little Starkeeper.
Did you enjoy them fucking you like a common city slag?
” I know what she’s doing—deflection is one of her favorite tools.
When I don’t respond to her taunting, she sighs theatrically. “Fine, follow me.”